


Vesper

by autumnstwilight (sewohayami)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Animal Transformation, Chocobos, Crack, Crack and Angst, Gen, Healer Ardyn Izunia, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 15:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17185700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewohayami/pseuds/autumnstwilight
Summary: When a status effect transforms Noctis into a black chocobo, he is separated from his friends, injured, and just when he thinks his day can't get any worse, found by none other than the Niflheim Chancellor. Who turns out to have a soft spot for animals. It's a weird day for Noct.





	Vesper

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for the following prompt:  
> "Any gets transformed to animal (cat/frog/bird/... bat... whatever) because of some magical shenanigans. They somehow manage to run into Ardyn and just when they think their luck can't get any worse... this bag of daemons suddenly transforms to a giddy mother-hen. It's kinda horrifying really."
> 
> Although the OP requested fluffy crack, this ended up digging into Ardyn's character a bit, and as such, got kind of sad.

Noctis had been poisoned before. Confused, until he barely knew which way was up. Impaled upon a ronin’s sword. Turned to stone, aware but frozen in place. Hell, he’d been a _frog_ at one point. The gods, if they were watching him, had a sick sense of humor.

But a chocobo? That was new.

“Kwehh!” he screeched indignantly, then tilted his head as the sound echoed from the rocks around him. The rocks, which he could now see in practically every direction except for a blind spot behind him, and _that_ was disorienting. And then he had to turn his entire head to get a decent look at something that was directly in front of his face.

He didn’t know where the other guys were, or if they’d met the same fate. Maybe they’d all be finishing their roadtrip in chocobo form, if they ever found each other. The gigantic and bizarre daemon they had fought had proved too much for them, and Ignis had shouted for them to all split in different directions. And so he’d run and run, in a strange and animal panic, until he noticed that his legs had changed shape beneath him.

At least he couldn’t smell himself.

Black feathers filled his peripheral vision. He’d certainly attract attention, at least from anyone who knew their chocobos. He just hoped that he didn’t end up as a rare mount, or a hunting trophy. He decided then and there that he was going to throw any fool who attempted to ride him. He strutted forward, surveying the area for recognizable landmarks.

There was an odd feeling, something like a mild tugging sensation in his head, toward one direction. When he turned to face it, he was filled with the certainty that this had to be north, and the other directions followed logically. _I guess that’s how they always find their way home, then,_ Noctis thought. _Would help if I knew which direction I was going_ before _I transformed._

The area he was standing on appeared to be a plateau, with a gorge carved through it. By his reckoning, that might be the road, a few hundred feet away. Perhaps he could at least follow it to a haven, the sun was getting low in the sky. He proceeded at a light trot to the edge, and was just peering over, when the ground beneath his feet began to slip.

“Fuck,” he said, but it came out as another wailed “Kweeeh!”, as he tumbled down the sheer rock face, followed by loose earth and stones. He landed, hard, on the asphalt of the road, pain shooting through his leg, and was soon pelted by the rockslide from above. He huddled beneath his own wing in fear until the movement and noise stopped.

He tried to stand, shaking off the dust and gravel, but was stopped almost immediately by pain that lanced through his leg. It was broken, that was clear even with much of the limb trapped beneath rubble.

He was contemplating his many miseries when the glow of headlights appeared. _Just run me over,_ he thought, but the car instead pulled to the side of the road. A vintage, red, oddly familiar car.

The gods _definitely_ had a sick sense of humor.

The car door clicked softly as Ardyn disembarked, a curious expression on his face.

“And what have we here?”

Noctis let out a hiss that he had only heard from chocobos a few times before, and never so vehemently.

“Calm down, darling. It would do no good to leave you in such a state.”

There was a slight and surprisingly warm smile on Ardyn’s face as he knelt by the pile of rubble, shifting the rocks with an ease Noctis wouldn’t have expected from a lifelong politician.

Also he was pretty sure Ardyn had just called him _darling,_ and that might just be the most deeply wrong thing that had occurred all day.

“There, there. Quiet now, my dear. What a beautiful bird you are.”

Left with no other option, he fell silent, letting out only a quiet whine when the rocks around his broken leg were moved. As soon as he was free, he attempted to stand again, but his leg refused to hold weight and he stumbled.

“Shh. _Stay._ You know, you look just like my dear, sweet Vesper. She was the most beautiful and loyal of birds, of course. No less for the Chosen King.”

A strange contortion passed across his face at those last two words, and Noctis was filled with fear. Had Ardyn somehow sensed who he was, even in this form? If not, what in Eos did he mean by _chosen king?_

Ardyn’s hands seized his broken leg, and he squawked and flapped in pain and surprise. He wondered if he could even summon his Armiger in his current form, and if it would be worth giving himself away. But then Ardyn was muttering something incomprehensible but soothing, in a tongue that bore the weight of eons, and warmth and light seeped through his flesh and bones.

What the fuck.

The broken bone shifted back into place and knitted, replacing the pain with a pleasant warmth. He tested it, and the leg took his weight with ease. Hell, it felt better than it did when he was human. He could have run for miles, though perhaps that was just a side-effect of being a chocobo.

“There you go. Now, that’s better, isn’t it? This old body is still good for something, it seems...”

He probably should have run then. Run far and thought about this whole situation later. But a combination of curiosity at the chancellor’s unguarded words, and having absolutely no idea which direction _to_ go kept him rooted to the spot. As he stood there, nervously pecking at his own feathers, he saw Ardyn pull a length of rope out of what seemed like nowhere, and begin fashioning it into a makeshift bridle. Oh. Oh _no._

He did start running then, but he had not gone far when he felt a heavy thud on his back, and an arm wrapped around the base of his neck. Ardyn had somehow managed to keep pace with him. He squawked indignantly, and the bridle was forced into his beak.

“There, there,” Ardyn soothed, “Easy now. Good bird.”

 _Good bird my ass._ He screeched and flapped and kicked and bucked, and Ardyn barely shifted in his seat, his grip like it was made of iron. Eventually he was forced to admit that Ardyn wasn’t going anywhere, and he settled down more out of a sulky resignation to his fate than anything else. If the Six were watching this, they could absolutely go _choke._

“That’s better, my dear. Now, I believe the Chocobo Post is only a short shot from here. Tragic as it is, I can’t keep you for myself. But you’ll be well taken care of there. I promise.”

He was pondering Ardyn’s deeply unsettling but seemingly sincere kindness to animals when the man reached up to ruffle the feathers on his neck. A strange calmness overcame him, as though he were being preened by his mother and- no. Oh _hell_ no. Nothing about this was okay, and he refused to enjoy it. With sudden determination, he began to run. The sooner he could get to the Chocobo Post, the sooner he could get rid of Ardyn. And hopefully find a way to change back. But mostly the first thing.

He made no effort to provide a smooth or comfortable ride for the man on his back, but Ardyn seemed not to mind. Rather, he was now humming to himself, an obnoxiously catchy tune that Noctis vaguely recalled hearing the last time he’d visited the Post.

“Spirited little fellow, you are! Why, I believe you’d do quite well in the races! My Vesper too, she never raced, but her mother was a champion. Could run like the wind, that one. Of course, that all ended when…”

Ardyn took a deep breath, then spoke with an old and tired sorrow that stripped all the pretense from his voice, in a way Noctis had never imagined nor expected to hear. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering who this man really was.

“...I do miss her. She was a darling thing.”

Dusk had truly begun to fall, and the landscape was dim and foggy, with a sudden chill in the air that slipped through his feathers to nip at the skin. There was a rising instinct, an animal wariness that joined hands with his own, human, anxiety. The daemons were readying themselves to take form. Ardyn too, had gone quiet, though Noctis sensed no fear from him. The darkness clung to him like a mantle, and he bore it with something like a quiet dignity.

“My kingdom, my subjects…” he murmured in a wry tone.

They passed through the night unbothered, with only the pad of chocobo feet against the road. There was a muted beauty to the landscape, still and eerie in the starlit fog. Noctis had never seen anything like it. The rhythm of his own running was soothing, almost hypnotic. Who knew how much time had passed in this trance? He leapt, gliding back to earth on stubby wings, and heard what sounded like a soft chuckle from above him. A hand gently ruffled his feathers.

At last, the lights of Wiz’s Chocobo Post emerged from the fog, a comforting sight. Yet Ardyn seemed to stiffen, as though he were preparing himself. Noctis recognized it as the same tension that fell upon him when he was to make a public appearance. A veil slipped across Ardyn, as though he were an actor falling into a familiar role.

“Well, welcome, traveler!” called Wiz, “Ain’t it awful late to be out and about? Reckon you got here just in time.”

“Perhaps it is so.” Ardyn spoke in his usual silken tones. “I found this one, injured on the roadside. May I trouble you to take him in?”

Wiz looked at Noctis and took a deep breath, “And I thought we’d seen the last of them. That there’s a pure black, no dye on the feathers. What a beauty.”

“Indeed,” agreed Ardyn.

“You’ll be staying the night, then? Caravan’s thataway. No charge, for rescuing this one.”

Ardyn gave a thin smile. “I’m afraid I must return and retrieve my automobile.”

“At this hour? Daemons are gonna...”

“You need not worry about me.”

Wiz scrunched his face in concern, “Well, I can’t do nothing to stop you. But…”

He blinked in surprise, and Noctis tilted his head. Ardyn was already retreating, his shoulders blanketed by mist. Enveloped by the night, he was gone.

“Strange fellow, eh?” Wiz scratched his head. “But perhaps not a bad sort. Now let’s get you set up for the night.”

He tugged on the rope, and Noctis followed him without objection into a straw-lined pen. He was tired now, and at the very least this was a safe place to spend the night. Wiz was trustworthy and reliable, and his ranch might well be the most well-protected location for a hapless prince in chocobo form. A basket of gysahl greens was placed before him, and he would have grimaced if he had the ability to make facial expressions. Still, hunger tempted him to peck at them idly, and then with enthusiasm. His new form apparently had tastes of its own, ones that he would absolutely never breathe a word of to Ignis. It was certain that his advisor would find serving him a heaped plate of gysahl greens to be hilarious, despite the fact that there was clearly nothing funny about it.

Having eaten his fill, he turned around in the pen three times, then settled on the ground with his head tucked under one wing. A light breeze teased at his feathers, but he was already drifting off.

He awoke lying in the chill morning dew, curled on his side with straw poking into his hair and through his shirt, overjoyed to see the featherless, _human_ hands before his face. A pointed dress shoe was nudging him in the ribs, Ignis peering down at his damp and muddied prince with mild dismay. Noctis hauled himself into a sitting position, plucking pieces of straw from his mussed hair.

“Would you mind informing us of what exactly happened here?” Ignis straightened his jacket, brushing away a stray piece of straw, while Prompto and Gladio stood behind him. None appeared to have slept, dust and dirt clinging to their faces, Prompto’s hair wilting forlornly, strands of Ignis’ spikes coming loose to brush at his eyes. Gladio yawned widely enough that Noctis thought his face might split in two.

Noctis sighed.

“Long story, guys. I’ll tell you over breakfast.”


End file.
